


Breathe in/Breathe out

by melonbutterfly



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-07
Updated: 2009-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach has a history. But then again, so does everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe in/Breathe out

**Author's Note:**

> For this (http://community.livejournal.com/trek_rpf_kink/1765.html?thread=1924581#t1924581) prompt from the trek_rpf_kink meme.

They're lying on Zach's patio, sipping ice-cold orange juice (for Zach; Chris has grapefruit juice; when they kiss it tastes awesome) through straws and generally being lazy when Chris notices for the first time. Later he wouldn't be able to tell why, but for some reason he suddenly becomes aware that there are three scars on Zach's left forearm, near the pit of his elbow. They're slightly curved and approximately one centimetre apart, and of almost perfect synchrony.

Curious and not yet really aware, Chris rolls onto his stomach and slides a little closer. Tilting his head, he looks at them and wonders what kind of accident could have made them (they're too far apart to be from a fork, and too close for any kind of gardening tool; too straight for a barbed wire fence-collision and too curved to be medicinal, though he can't imagine what kind of barbaric medicinal practice would require three cuts deep enough to scar anyway) when it hits him.

They're not. Accidental.

He takes a deep breath and swallows, looks up into Zach's face but his eyes are closed. Sitting up, Chris wonders what to do. He can't just ignore this; it's not a problem but something he needs to know about, most definitely. They don't look new at all; actually they're pretty faint, it's no wonder nobody has ever noticed them before.

He takes another breath.

"Zach?"

"Hm?" Zach pulls his arm up to shadow his eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun and looks at him. "What is it?"

Grabbing Zach's arm, Chris pulls it into his lap and licks his lips, gently places two fingers on the scars, eyes never leaving Zach's face. "These. Where're they from?"

Zach turns a little still. Not completely in a way that would have been alarming, but enough that Chris knows he's right, and that Zach knows he knows, and Chris knows that Zach knows that he knows. Zach's eyes are slightly wide despite the glare of the sun, fixed on Chris, and for a moment none of them moves.

Then Zach licks his lower lip and says, "I was thirteen." His arm is relaxed in Chris' lap and he gently, very softly runs the tips of his fingers up and down where the scars are, not tracing them, but for the first time aware that they're there—he can't feel them, but he knows, and he'll always know.

"I was an awkward kid, head in the clouds, mostly only half-aware of my environment, not exactly good-looking either. I didn't speak up; I barely talked at all, outside theatre class that is." Zach's eyes, dark and half tentative, half not, don't leave Chris' for a second. He's speaking to him, not explaining anything, just telling him a story. "I've been bullied all through grade- and high school, I guess. I'd always cross my arms and bury my fingernails into my skin." And Chris sees it; angry and scared and defensive little Zach, shoulders pulled up, the first three fingers of his right hand boring into the soft skin of his left arm, where the scars are now. "I'd just feel better then. It wasn't even a conscious action," Zach says, and now he's explaining. "Sometimes if it was really bad I'd scratch myself. Never a lot, and only fingernails, never anything sharp. Until… well, I was thirteen when I had to realise I was as gay as can be. I guess I've always known, on a subconscious level, but I never acknowledged it until I had to, because I had the biggest crush ever on a guy in my class. A good-looking, popular guy. One of the bullies. I honestly hated myself for a while, not only because I was, well, wrong and disgusting, or so I thought, but also because I had the weakness to actually fall in love with one of the guys who I was supposed to hate; it only made everything so much more worse. And well, after a particular unpleasant experience—I don't even really remember what it was anymore, at that age even the smallest incident seems like the most horrible drama ever anyway, I suppose—I locked myself into the bathroom and tried the razor."

Chris makes a little sound; he is completely still now, horrified and scared for the boy that Zach was even though he knows he was fine, is fine, and he admires Zach even more for the fact that he's so comfortable in his own skin now.

"I just- I just followed the lines my fingers had made with the razor. I was like in some kind of trance, and as soon as I noticed the blood I snapped out of it. I was horrified and scared; it bled so much and I was terrified I had accidentally tried to commit suicide. I bled two towels full until it finally stopped, but thankfully it healed rather well. Nobody noticed, and I never hurt myself again, at all." Zach looks at his arm that is still in Chris' lap and shrugs with his other shoulder. "It was a rather terrifying experience, but I'm kind of glad it happened. It opened my eyes for the self-destructive pattern I might have gotten myself into otherwise. I really didn't want to die, and realising that helped me a lot." He looks at Chris again, who is silent and still for a moment, then nods slowly. "I'm glad you weren't, you know, suicidal", he says, and Zach smirks, a little careful but almost normal. "Me too."

Chris smiles and takes the hand in his lap, entwines their fingers and pulls them to his chest before leaning close to kiss Zach, who immediately sneaks his tongue into his mouth.

He tastes orange.


End file.
